


Dying Grey

by Muirlyn



Series: Wolves and Dragons [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muirlyn/pseuds/Muirlyn
Summary: People imagine that one’s Harrowing is the most significant event in your mage-y life. Templars and Grand Enchanters alike think to themselves ‘This is the most pivotal part of this mages life.’ To Crowley, however, it’s a shitty early morning venture that probably could have waited until the sun was out. Crowley played the part however, keeping as little suspicion on himself as possible. Templars needn’t know how easy this was for him, how frequently he spent his time in the fade. He would learn, however, that that bowl of processed lyrium was the beginning anything that matters.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s really fucking cold. Fereldan is a cold, wet, mudheap of a place. That’s just how it is.  _ But this is simply unacceptable.  _ The three of us have been traveling for  _ days.  _ I thought I’d gotten used to it. I’ve lived in the woods before, I know what it’s like but this is just. Soggy. Brown and Soggy. I’d been kind of quiet about my plight, for the most part, but I think the Grey Warden and our elven friend have caught on to my internal struggle. “Are you cold?” The grey warden, Duncan, asks. His face gives stoic concern and is hauntingly paternal. 

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re are very quick to start the fires.” He isn’t wrong. Once I know we’re camping for the night, my first concern is to build a fire and tonight was no different. I’d barely managed to find a good bundle of sticks and dry leaves to house my sanctuary before starting the fire with a simple pull of magic. I usually bring my tent fairly close to fire, fereldan cold seems to have learned to pass through furs and leathers quite easily. 

“I just think I’m best suited, being ya know, a  _ mage. _ Making fire’s like ...a thing we do.”

“Yes, I am well versed in the skills of mages, it’s quite impressive.” His sagely voice is so genuine and matter-of-fact it almost puts me off guard.

“Your teeth.” Duncan and I look around to see that our silent third has spoken, poking the fire with a stick he’d found. His voice is oddly gentle for such an ominous statement.

“W-what? My teeth?” I really hope he doesn’t want to take my teeth. I need these.

“They chatter. A lot.” They didn’t sound annoyed which is good.

“Yeah, I’ve.. been in ferelden for a while but never got the hang of it. The cold that is.” I nuzzle into the fire, the flames burning so good. 

“Where are you from?” Duncan asks, his sword laid out next to him. He’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him, or ever will, i feel. I can imagine you can only be ‘Warden-Commander’ for so long before you’re just ‘Duncan’ again. I didn’t know how to answer his question, though. Not honestly. 

“North. It’s warmer where I’m from.” Duncan nods, probably not being a stranger to people not being too forthright about their lives.

“I thought you were from the Circle?” Our elven friend interjects. 

“I am.”

“But you’re from up North?”

“Yes, I am”

“So….which is it?”

“I lived in the North when I was a kid. I was- uhm…” I trail off, wondering why I’m being cagey anyway. I’m gonna be a grey warden too, It’s not like they could do anything, or would want to. “I was traveling for a while. I came down here with some friends and, because I was a apostate; the templars took me to the circle. Been there since.” 

“Oh. Cool.” He smirks to me, with a nod of approval. “Been in the alienage and Denerim all m’life. First time I’d really been out. I miss m’bed though.”

“Me. Fucking. Too.”

“Well gentlemen.” Duncan finally was able to chime in, “It may be awhile before we can have beds, but I assure you, there are warmer days to come.” He breathes out the softest chuckle.

 

The next day, we finally got to ostagar. It was odd, seeing ruins of your own culture’s terrible history. I’m glad Ostagar’s a ruin, and serves a proper purpose now. Duncan told us to head off and get a feel for the camp before grouping up with an ‘Alistair.’

Elon, as I’ve eventually learned his name was, and I decided it was best to stick together in this bitch of a shem world. The two of us were walking past the mages, the ones who’d already left well before my harrowing. They were in the fade, guarded by templars vigilantly. In some way, you’re glad you have a pass from ever having to deal with that kind of micromanagement again. 

“Why do you call Shem’s ‘Shem’?” Elon asked me while we passed them, my eyes fixed on the mages. I miss the fade, playing pranks on the dreams of my friends. 

“Hm?”

“Shem’s can’t call Shem’s ‘shem’” Elon emphasizes instead, saying the word shem too many times. I can only blink a lot at him for a moment. 

“I may be of human flesh, my good friend, but elven blood runs in their veins. Besides, It’s hard not to use after living with a clan for like 4 years.” I smirk at my little brag. I tell this to my elven peers at the circle all the time, gloating about my dalish knowledge. Elon just looks confused. 

“You don’t got no-- things. The face thing.” He points to your face and gestures. 

“The Vallaslin? No, cause I’m…. not an elf. It was always  _ very _ clear to me I wasn’t an elf.”

“It’s the beard.” We both grin at that.

“Yeah. The beard and being a whole foot taller than the tallest man available. Though that came with it’s advantages.” Elon smacks me with a knowing snicker. 

“Do they shem a lot in Alienages?”

“Only the nice one’s.” I decide that Elon and I are friends. We passed a few interesting things, Ash Warriors, a prisoner with no food, a racist smith. We decided we kind of hate Ostagar, no offence to Duncan or anything. It took up the better part of an hour to finally find Alistair, and he’s being yelled at by quite the mage. I’ve seen this guy do the same to his students at the Circle. Elon steps behind me, I’m sure the mage’s honed ranting skills intimidating the poor man. Luckily, soon after, he left in a huff, Alistair being the champion simply because he can’t have felt he would lose. 

“One good thing about the blight is how it brings us together.” The two of us look at eachother and just roll our eyes. 

“Shems.”

 

\--

 

The three of us returned to our great leader, Duncan. Elon and I chat while we’re joined by Jory and Daveth. Jory, I can tell, is a coward. Daveth genuinely wants to be here as well. They seem okay though, the two of them. I mostly hope they can fight, especially when Duncan decides to throw us to the literal wolves to get some darkspawn blood. Four veils of black ooze as well as some treaties, simple enough. However cold the Korcari Wilds are, I am excited to venture through them again, in a strange way. Every step reminds me of the time I lived with the elves, makes me feel closer to my elven heritage. I also makes me miss my sister. Each blade of grass was a bittersweet memory, but I relished them all the same. When I’m done taking it all in, I get a good grip on my staff, a coiled blackened wood shaft with magic engravings in it and turn to face my comrades-in-suicide-mission. 

“Alright, losers, let’s go. We’ve got Darkspawn to kill and frostbite to avoid. ” I chime and I walk on without looking behind me.

“Is...Crowley always like that?” Alistair asks, bemused curiosity peppered with morbid concern in his voice. I can hear Elon’s shrug as he speaks. 

“He’s from the north.”


	2. The Wilds

The korcari wilds are, by far, the most fun place I’ve ever had in Ferelden so far.  
“How is this fun?” Jory interject. His tone is so whiny I almost don’t hear it completely I was ignoring him so hard. I opted to watch this raven instead that perched itself nearby.  
“Yes, I can’t help but worry about your definition of ‘fun’.” Alistair adds, his smooth sarcasm more tolerable to the ear.  
“You aren’t mages, you wouldn’t understand.” The smell of darkspawn flesh being cooked filled the air, but I felt at home in the carnage. We’d slain our fifth band of darkspawn in the wilds so far, and I was relishing the ability to actually use my magic. Trapped in that tower for years, All of my magic was put to the chantry’s knife of what is acceptable amounts and limits. With the clan, I could do more, but never enough. Here, though? Here I’m in no cage.  
“No wonder Mages are feared.” Daveth gulps down a touch of fear. The raven I’d been watching caws in agreement.  
“A little fear would do a lot of people some good.” I just shrugged, continuing the lead. Elon had been going in and out of the party to scout ahead, even bringing back flowers for the Mabari or bags of ashes or depressing notes left by poor saps who wondered the woods. We don’t have much room to talk. I’m sure if it wasn’t five of us, we would be just as lucky.

Our adventure has been fruitful so far, With more Vials of blood than any Grey Warden could ask for, we were almost approaching the old outpost in the wood. The sky was starting to darken slowly, the haze of purple and pinks draping us in its fashion. A clearing ahead reeked of something I couldn’t place, a film on the back of my tongue so strong I didn’t need Alistair to know that Darkspawn where going to be coming. He warned us, his shield and blade drawn up like the back of a cat’s spine. I started to pull the fade in, the magic tingling my fingertips as I readied. Not even a moment passes, and We hear the screech of darkspawn leaving their ambush spots, howling in pain as a spritely elf, whose axes are embedded in it’s back, jumps off it’s back and proceeds to do the same thing to the darkspawn next to him.  
“S-should we?” Alistair mutters to the rest of us. “He seems to be fine.”  
“Charge, Losers” I command pointing my staff at the darkspawn while I toss the magic that tickled my fingers into a cascade of bolts of spiritual energy. I crush my staff into the skull of a hurlock that got too close. Should I have made it into a bomb? Probably. Did I? Absolutely. It crashed back into the tainted kin and his body popped, his guts and blood splattering the lot of us.  
“Must you do that everytime a darkspawn gets too close?” Jory bitched wiping hurlock flesh from his cheek.  
“How is that a question?”  
“I kinda like it m’self.” Elon says, pulling his axe out of the last one of fall. “S’like a party. But with blood.”  
“See? He gets it.” I’d laughed as I started stabilizing the wounds Alistair and Jory sustained. They winced under the tingle of magic sealing cuts and soothing aches.  
Daveth, taking a page out of Elon’s book, went ahead to the ruin, stowing his bow in a fluid motion. “Look, boys, We found it,” he said in his weasel-like voice.

The lot of us approached the ruin to and found our goal fairly quickly. Bad news, it’s empty. Alistair starts moving pieces of the crate, maybe they’re under here? Please be under here. I can hear him think as he starts to gain panic.  
“Well, Well. What have we here?” We hear from behind us. A woman steps down from the rubble with seductive ease. Her dark hair and bright yellowed eyes unlike anything I’d seen any human have, She was weirdly compelling. I like her. She’s poorly dressed for the cold, I note, looking at her haphazard leathers and loose thin clothes. I was so enchanted by her stupefying lack of functional clothing I heard nothing of what she said.  
“What say you, hm? Scavenger or intruder?” She demands of me as she cuts her way past our group of boys.  
“Aren’t you cold?” I can’t help but ask, her breast just all out. Luckily, Alistair was paying attention and answers the woman’s riddle. She just looked at me puzzled.  
“Neither, Grey Wardens owned this tower.”  
“Tis a tower no longer, the wilds have obviously claimed this desecrated corpse.” The two of them go on and on about the tower and the grey wardens, and I watch as my companions are all very nervous. Daveth thinks she’s a ‘witch of the wilds’ while Alistair warns of swooping being bad. The woman is definitely magical, I can feel the fade’s touch on her. We introduced ourselves, to which only Elon and I were willing to offer our new acquaintance, Morrigan. She compliments our manners.  
“You’re some kind of sneaky-witch thief!” Alistair accuses, poor fool.  
“How very eloquent.” The witch says with as much interest on her face as I had period. “How does one steal from dead men?”  
“Quite easily it seems. Those treaties are grey warden property, you’d best return them.”  
“I will not, for it was not I who removed them! Invoke a name that means nothing here if you wish, I am not frightened.”  
Elon, the only many among us with any sense, asked simply. “Who removed them then?”  
“Twas my mother, in fact.”  
“Ya’mind taking us to her?” He said in his sweetest voice.  
“Now there is a sensible request. I like you.” Elon just grins real wide. We start to follow her deeper into the wilds, deeper than any of us were mentally or physically prepared for. As we walked Alistair whispered in Elon ear something that made him laugh.

We reached a cottage of some age in the forest, and in front of it was an ominous looking old woman. She carried herself with grace for a woman in barely more than leathers and rags. Long before I approached I could feel her magical intensity. It was intimidating in a way I couldn’t help but feel reminded of my own mother. The mother and daughter greeted each other with light jibs of sarcasm. The mother sized us up as soon as we got there, all of them frozen still as if brushing past her will turn them into frogs. She prowled around us, before stopping at me. “Let me look at you.” Her fingers were cold but soft on my face when she pulled me in before, releasing me and going back to her daughter. As it turns out, Our witch friend’s magic mom had been guarding our scrolls for time, to which I had to force some ‘thank you’s out of them.

Just like that, Morrigan was back to leading, this time back to the where Ostagar and the wilds met, which I was always thankful for because my sense of direction was never very good in the woods. We returned to Duncan with the vials and the old sheets of paper, the molded texture of it a film on my hands as I hand it over. “When you are ready, meet us in that clearing where you met Alistair.” We nod as we all separate, my first instinct is to give the medicinal flower to the ash warrior for the Mabari. After it was done, I stuck around to pet the poor whimpering thing before deciding I best become a Grey Warden. I could feel the soreness of the day’s activities tearing at my body, even my spirit was tired for the amount of magic I would use at any one time, but that feeling I knew well. I reached Duncan and the others, Elon picking his teeth with wood chips as he joined soon after. It was the usual ceremonial andrastian mumbo jumbo, My interest fading but the words Alistair spoke rang me back to reality.

Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.

At that moment, Daveth stepped forward. Duncan gave him the marble decorated goblet of blood and Daveth, with no hesitation, drank. When our leader took the goblet back, we simply waited. In a blink, Daveth was writhing in pain, the blight spreading so fast and so strongly, he simply fell and convulsed as his body began to reject the fell substances. In moments, he dies. Part of me is shocked but in small ways, I could tell some risk must have been involved. Elon stood unfazed by the death, but neither of us were prepared or how visceral Jory’s reaction would be.  
“You killed him!” He cries, backing away. “He’s dead.”  
“You must drink.” Duncan said with tired and ruthless eyes.  
“I-I can’t I have a wife! And a Child on the way” This already pale skin began to ghost as he pulled his blade from his back.  
“I’m sorry,” is all he could have heard when Duncan pulled his dagger from his waist and in one motion, stabbed Jory in the gut. Elon and I just blinked, Jory on the floor dead and bleeding and Daveth’s sickly shriveling face. We looked at each other, for any kind of reassurance before turning to Duncan. Elon drank first. And I drank right after it, I barely got a glimpse of Elon’s collapse before my vision fades and I was out.

When I woke up, my head felt like it was cleaved in half. I checked the back of my head to make sure. No blood. That’s good. When my eyes began to actually communicate with the rest of me, I could see Alistair and Duncan looking down on me, on us. As I hear groans next to me, Elon rises with the fervor of the dead. I feel about the same, not even strong enough to think about getting up. I do, however, by sheer force of will alone. I shake the dust out of my hair, my curls trying to keep hold of them. We looked to our comrades and to each other again. We smiled because we knew the worst was over. We were Grey Wardens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extended wait, friends, as school took the driver seat for a while, but I didn't forget! and I won't. Again, I didn't have beta readers really so if you see mistakes, feel free to tell a bitch about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd work so feel free to message corrections! This is the beginning of...a thicc project, mostly something to keep me sane, so not sure on intervals yet, but the chapters will be on the shorter end.


End file.
